


Her Cross to Bear

by autistic_dragon



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Antisemitism, Drabble, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jewish Character, Judaism, Loss of Parent(s), holocaust mentions, repetitive writing, this is really awkwardly written i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 21:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autistic_dragon/pseuds/autistic_dragon
Summary: Maria Stark was not given a Jewish funeral.





	Her Cross to Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Just for the record, I am a gentile and while I'm converting to Judaism, I am still very, very early in that process. I did a lot of research while writing this, but I probably made mistakes and if you notice any, please let me know.

Tony couldn't stop thinking about his mother.

Couldn't stop thinking of her soft, dark hair and warm eyes, the smell of her perfume, the brush of her fingers against his cheek. 

He remembered the gentle touch of her hands, trying desperately to soothe the pain that Howard caused. The lilt of her voice as she sang lullabies, the words strong but soft, barely above a whisper to keep Howard from hearing. The way her eyes softened and her lips curled at the corners when he rambled at her, never snapping at him like Howard did.

_(Never hurting him. Never leaving bruises on his skin or making blood run into his eyes. Never hurting him, not like Howard did.)_

Most importantly though, he remembered the subtle melody to her words when she recited prayers and blessings. He remembered the way she guided him through books of Hebrew teaching him the holy language that her husband rejected. He remembered whispered stories of miracles, the light of the Shabbat candles reflected in her eyes, the upturn of her lips as she put on her tallit, the love she felt for her faith and for her people and for Adonai.

He remembered her tears and beaming smile at his Bar Mitzvah, the look of reverence and awe on her face whenever she saw the Sefer Torah, the joy in her voice when she sang along with services. He also remembered her rage and hurt when Howard scheduled a gala on Yom Kippur and refused to reschedule, the saccharine smile she wore whenever someone joked about her "not looking Jewish," and the snarl in her voice whenever she was told that the "Holocaust wasn't actually that bad."

_(He also remembered the grandparents he never had the chance to meet, who sacrificed themselves so that at least one of their children could live. He remembered the sobs he heard late at night, the numbness in her gaze during Yom Hashoah, the yahrzeit candles she lit on the anniversary of the day her parents said goodbye to their youngest child._

_She was never able to find the actual date they died.)_

Her funeral, shared with Howard, ended less than an hour ago. It was stunning, in a grand white church, the building filled with white and black roses and beautiful organ music playing in the background.

She hated roses.

But her thoughts never really mattered, did they? Instead of the simple, private synagogue service she would've wanted, her funeral was a huge public spectacle filled with paparazzi and reporters, held in a church that her husband only attended to improve his image. Instead of being buried in the small but beautiful Jewish cemetery she regularly visited and volunteered at, she was being buried in a church graveyard filled crosses and angels. And instead of the simple, unadorned wooden coffin she would've wanted, her body was placed in a lavish metal coffin, the edges gilded with cold and the inside padded with thick cushions and luxurious silk and velvet.

And on the lid, directly above her head, laid a golden cross.

Even in death, she was ignored in favor of her husband, with not a single word spoken about her that didn't come from the mouth of her son. The Mourner's Kaddish was not recited for her. Her accomplishments were never mentioned.

_(An opera singer, a composer, a scholar, a philanthropist, and an activist. She was a brilliant, outspoken woman who helped so many people and used her wealth and privilege to change the world around her._

_All her headstone said was "A beloved wife and mother.")_

No one ever saw Maria Carbonell, the educated and accomplished Jewish immigrant and Holocaust survivor, who loved the world she lived in and would do anything to make it better. They only saw Maria Stark, Howard Stark's pretty trophy wife who did nothing except spend her husband's money on trivial issues.

_(Oh, how she seethed when she read that headline. He could remember her fury, her spitting rage. Since when are human rights trivial?!)_

The world forgot her before her body was even cold, but Tony refused to do the same. When he finally went outside again, he would speak about her, tell everyone who would listen about the incredible person she was, the amazing things she did, the people whose lives she touched. He would remind the world that Maria Stark existed outside of the men in her life, that she was more than a wife and a mother.

But for now, he would sit. He would sit, think, and mourn for a life that was ended far too early.


End file.
